


Slow Burn

by justsare



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, S3e03 alternative ending, Smut, Some Fluff, not canon compliant after Murder & Mozz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-10 08:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11123796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsare/pseuds/justsare
Summary: Phryne thought that once she and Jack got together, the fire would kindle immediately, but Jack has other ideas.





	1. Making Do

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my first time writing (or trying to write) smut (or fluff), but it is my first foray into using someone else's characters. Capturing a voice that's already well-established is a lot harder than it looks! I've been poking around here for a few weeks reading a lot of your offerings, and it's been such a pleasure. I finally watched S3e03 yesterday and it was the first one that I really thought should have ended differently (even though I already knew it wouldn't).

“Looks like you'll have to make do with me,” Phryne smiled.

“It looks like we’ll have to make do with each other,” Jack replied, showing her the bottle of wine he'd brought. 

Phryne smiled, and Jack sat down on the chaise opposite her, the corkscrew in his hand. She rose from her chair and picked up the wine glasses, sitting close beside him on the chaise. She looked closely at him. “Are you all right, Jack?”

“Of course,” he nodded, filling their glasses, but not meeting her eyes.

“I don't believe you. What's happened?” She stared at him, and then suddenly she brought the side of her thumb to his mouth, coming away with the faintest trace of waxy lipstick on her skin. He stiffened, and so did she, and they gazed impassively at each other for a moment before Jack broke the wordless tension by holding his glass up to her.

“A toast,” he murmured, “to - how did you put it? - to doing the noble thing.”

“You turned her down,” Phryne realized, her eyes widening.

“It wasn't like that,” he replied. “It wasn't anything like that.”

“Tell me, then,” she murmured gently.

Jack sighed and lowered his glass, staring down into the ruby liquid. “She didn't ask me to go to bed with her,” he said softly. “She wanted...more.” He sighed.

“Marriage,” suggested Phryne. “Children. A home.”

Jack nodded.

Phryne’s brow creased slightly. “Don't you want those things, Jack?”

He took a deep breath, and looked back up into her eyes. Her glorious eyes, mysterious as the sea. “It's becoming increasingly clear, Miss Fisher, that the only thing I want…” he trailed off, hesitating, and looked back down at the wine, for courage. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger. “I went there today to tell Concetta that while I was...honoured...by her proposal, I couldn't accept.” Phryne nodded, and he continued. “But she kissed me, and...and she said my heart was already taken. That I was taken.” He risked a glance at her face, which was watching him with a curious mix of sympathy and anticipation. 

“Miss Fisher,” he began, even as she said “Jack…”

She smiled. “Go ahead.”

“Miss Fisher, it’s becoming increasingly clear that what I want more than anything…” his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, looking down into the untouched wine and then back up into her eyes, “...is you.”

Phryne smiled and raised her glass to him. “To new beginnings, then, Jack.”

“To new beginnings,” he agreed, and touched his glass to hers.


	2. A kiss is just a kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind responses to the first chapter. Stoking the flames a little here. While everything about Phryne suggests a flying leap into bed, nothing about Jack does, to me.

Phryne and Jack both sipped their wine as the gramophone played on. They sat quietly, each considering their next move.

The record finished and the parlour was silent but for the crackling of the fire. Phryne sat her empty wineglass on the table and shook her head when Jack gestured to the bottle. He sat his glass beside hers and stood up restlessly.

“I should get home, Miss Fisher,” he intoned, as he did every night, and she looked up at him in surprise.

Phryne rose too, standing in front of him, her brow creased as one hand reached out to him. “Jack… You could… stay?”

He stepped closer, catching her hand in his and holding it tenderly. He held her gaze as he stepped closer still, his free hand moving behind her to press gently against the small of her back, bringing her body against his. They both shuddered a little at the contact, as he looked down into her face and she, up into his. He leaned in closer and brushed his lips across her forehead. “Not tonight, Miss Fisher.”

“I don't understand,” she admitted quietly.

Jack smiled, looking down into her eyes. “May I kiss you?” He asked quietly.

“Of course. Jack, come up to the bedroom. Stay.”

He shook his head, holding her body against him with one hand while the other released her hand to come up to the back of her neck, his long fingers sliding into her hair and making both of them shiver again at the touch of skin on skin. He bent his head slowly, cupping her head loosely in his hand, giving her time to change her mind, and then his lips came against hers and he was lost. 

All hope of a gentle, decorous kiss was out the window as their mouths devoured one another, biting at each other's lips and sucking at each other’s tongues. She whimpered into his mouth and he groaned into hers, his hand on her back pulling her pelvis tighter against his and she ground against him as the spark that had always been between them turned into a roaring furnace. 

Phryne curled her arms around his neck and bit at his upper lip, pressing as tightly to him as she could, but it wasn't enough.

Jack sucked at her lower lip, crushing her body into his, pouring all his frustration and longing into this one kiss, and feeling her giving the same right back.

With tremendous difficulty, Jack tore his lips from hers and took gasping breaths as she panted, both of his hands on her hips now, holding her firmly.

Phryne opened her mouth to speak, but Jack kissed her again quickly, then gently but firmly extricated himself from her embrace. “Goodnight, Miss Fisher,” he rumbled, stepping back towards the parlour doors.

Phryne’s lips were swollen and her eyes heavy-lidded. Her breasts rose and fell with her shallow breaths; her hands had fallen limply to her sides.

With some effort, she drew herself up and blew him a kiss. “Goodnight, Inspector.”


	3. Lucky Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack has a much nicer lunch than he'd expected, and gets a bit loquacious.

One o'clock the following afternoon found Phryne and Dot breezing through the doors of City South, lunch baskets in hand. Jack had the warning of Hugh’s pleased “Dottie!” before Miss Fisher sashayed into his office, closing the door behind her and settling her basket on his desk. She settled into her usual position leaning against the desk, her thigh against his.

“Hello, Jack!”

He sat back in his chair and looked up at her, the ghost of a smile betraying his pleasure at her sudden appearance.

“Miss Fisher,” he replied quietly. They studied each other in silence for a moment before he flicked a gaze at the closed door, and leaned forward to wrap his right hand around her calf. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Dot wanted to bring her man some lunch.” She smiled. “So I thought perhaps I ought to do the same.”

“Hmm,” he mused, his hand sliding up her calf to her knee, making her breath hitch, then back down to her ankle, his fingers tracing the arch of her foot through her shoe before sitting back and loosely clasping his hands across his stomach, realizing too late that if he grew even slightly more excited at her presence, he wouldn't be able to hide it in this position. “Lucky man,” he offered teasingly.

“Lucky you,” Phryne returned, opening the basket and offering him a plate.

He accepted the plate and watched as she piled chicken and vegetables onto it, then he set it gently down onto the desk beside her.

He stood up slowly, leaning into her without touching, his hands resting on the desk at either side of her hips. She watched him move through half-closed eyes, until he drew so close that her vision blurred, and then her eyes fell closed, her long lashes sweeping across her cheeks. Jack drew in and nosed gently along her jawline, nudging her hair aside as he did, breathing her in.

His nose slid along her jaw and then his lips ghosted across her cheek, until his mouth hovered at the corner of hers. Phryne’s lips twitched slightly as he paused, and then Jack breathed “lucky me, indeed, Miss Fisher,” before capturing her mouth with his. His tongue teased at her lips until they parted, her tongue meeting his to invite him in. 

She sucked at his tongue, so that it almost hurt, then bit at his lips as he withdrew. He growled low in his throat, stepping closer so that his legs pressed against hers. She let her legs part so that he could step closer, and both of them moaned as he pressed his hardness against her heat. Jack ground against her, devouring her mouth with his, one hand leaving the safety of the desk to glide up the outside of her thigh, sliding easily under her dress, to the top of her stocking. He gently stroked the bare skin there, and then slowly pulled back from the kiss, licking at her lips as he withdrew.

Sitting down in his desk chair, smiling mildly up at Phryne, Jack reached for the fork she'd handed him earlier, and Phryne wore an amused smirk as she offered him a cloth napkin.

Her knees were still parted, and as he leaned forward to take a bite of his lunch, Jack groaned as he caught what could only be her scent on the air. His cock throbbed in protest as he resolutely concentrated on his lunch.

Phryne studied her Inspector as he ate, then rose from the desk and made herself a plate as well, sitting opposite him.

“What is this game you're playing, Jack?” she asked, somewhat conversationally.

Jack looked up in surprise. “I'm not playing anything, Miss Fisher,” he replied. “I don't think this is a game, do you?”

“Well, no,” Phryne smiled.

“I want you very much, Miss Fisher,” Jack said quietly. “Maybe more than I've ever wanted anything. Certainly more than I've ever wanted anyone.”

Her breath caught, but she said nothing.

Jack chewed and swallowed a few more bites before setting his fork and knife down. His erection had subsided enough that he sat back in his chair, surveying her while she toyed with her lunch.

“Then why, Jack? I've been, I believe, perfectly clear that I want you. I've invited you to stay. I've all but thrown myself at you.” Colour rose in Phryne’s cheeks, and she lowered her gaze.

Jack smiled. “Mine for the taking?”

“Well, yes, Jack.”

“Miss Fisher...I hope you don't think I'm taking that invitation lightly. I'm taking it very seriously indeed. However, it is my hope that you will be, for quite some time... mine for the keeping.”

Their eyes met. Jack’s were serious, burning darkly in his handsome face. Phryne’s were wide, as though she was edging towards panic.

“Miss Fisher, I won't ask anything of you that you can't give. I know you well enough and respect you enough and...care for you enough...that I would never ask you to be someone you're not. Phryne Fisher is who I want.” Jack watched as relief crossed her face. “But I want more than a kiss in the parlour. I want more than a grope in my office. And I want more than one quick fling in your boudoir.”

Phryne lifted her chin, about to speak, but he continued, “I want many kisses, in your parlour and elsewhere. I want many chances to touch you in my office. And I want many nights, in your boudoir, and in your parlour, and anywhere else that strikes our fancy, to show you how I feel.”

She smiled. “Will you come to supper tonight, Jack?”

“I would be delighted, Miss Fisher, but I’m afraid I cannot. I’ve drawn second shift on a stakeout tonight at a flophouse near the foreshore. I need to try and get some sleep this evening.”

One eyebrow raised slightly. “Would you like some company, then, Inspector?”

Jack smirked. “You want to come sit in the police motorcar in the dark for hours staring at a doorway?”

“I want a date with you, Jack, and this seems to be the only way to get it tonight.”

“I’ll pick you up at one thirty, then,” Jack promised. “And, Miss Fisher… Thank you for lunch.”


	4. The stakeout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we discover that Jack isn't as innocent as we may have thought.

They'd been sitting in the police motorcar for two and a half hours, chatting intermittently on a variety of topics, when Phryne started to squirm uncomfortably. Jack swept his gaze along the street and across the doorway they were watching before glancing at her. “Everything all right, Miss Fisher?”, he rumbled.

She smiled. “Fine, Jack.” Both of their gazes turned back to the street, and they sat in companionable silence for a few minutes.

He hid a smile as he saw her from the corner of his eye, shifting her weight. He glanced down and saw that her thighs were pressed tightly together. Returning his eyes to the front window, he held his tongue.

Several minutes later, Phryne sighed. “I hope they show up soon,” she muttered, and Jack nodded his agreement. They sat quietly for ten more minutes, Phryne squirming every few seconds, until finally she gave in. “Jack, I'm going to expire soon if I don't go find a ladies’ room.”

“No, Miss Fisher. You can't get out of the car. We can leave, and try the stakeout another night…”

“No!” She clenched her teeth. “I can wait.”

Jack considered and rejected several responses before settling on “let me know if it gets unbearable, Miss Fisher. Company car, after all.”

She scowled at him, but he continued to look out of the window, checking his mirrors.

Phryne squirmed some more, her cheeks beginning to flush with discomfort. To distract herself, she reached over and took Jack’s hand. He smiled at her, pleased. Things between them were still so new that he took nothing for granted. He felt a thrill of desire run through him as her thumb caressed his palm, but resolutely kept his attention focused outside of the motorcar and on the doorway opposite.

Phryne exhaled slowly, her body full of tension. Her hand in Jack’s felt small and warm and comforting, and she looked down at their hands, squinting in the darkness to make out their entwined flesh. She knew this hand; knew it against her cheek and in her hair; against her neck and on the back of her hip. Soon, she hoped, she would know it on her breasts, in her mouth, between her legs. Her breath hitched as she imagined him pressing his fingers inside of her, and he glanced at her, concerned. She felt a faint trickle of fluid between her thighs and worried that she'd lost control of her bladder, but as their eyes met in the darkness and her whole body thrummed with desire, she bit her lip against a whimper of need. Would he ever take her?

Jack watched her in the darkness, seeing several expressions cross her face in quick succession, until her face shone with unguarded, undisguised lust. He tore his gaze from hers and surveyed the street. It was only an hour or so before dawn, and he considered calling off their watch.

Phryne stared at Jack’s profile, her hand moving in his to gently stroke his index finger, making a ring of her own fingers and gently sliding it up and down his finger. He smiled without looking at her.

“Do you trust me, Miss Fisher?”

She smirked, a laugh in her voice. “Of course, Jack! With my life.”

Keeping his eyes on the street, he tugged his hand from her grasp and laid it on her leg, somewhat higher than was perhaps proper, and nudged her dress up a little so that his finger trailed gently across the band of skin above the top of her stocking. She whimpered softly, her fingers closing around his wrist; not to stop him, but for ballast. “Jack, what are you doing?”

He smiled his crooked smile, still surveying the street. “Give me your hand, Miss Fisher.” He lifted his hand and she placed hers into it. He squeezed gently, then nudged her fingers up between her legs, not touching anything except her hand. “Spread your legs apart, and slide your fingers into your knickers, Miss Fisher,” he rumbled quietly, and she gasped.

“Jack!”

He gazed impassively at the doorway opposite, and didn't move. His hand held hers loosely.

Phryne wondered if perhaps Jack had misunderstood her urgency. “I just really need to use the restroom, Jack, that's all.”

“Yes, Miss Fisher, I understand. You said you trust me.”

“I do, but I don't know…”

He turned from the windscreen to look directly at her. “Then just trust me. Do as I say,” he murmured, his voice somewhere between a tease and a growl. He turned his gaze back to the front.

Phryne felt his voice move through her like a caress, and shivered slightly. The pressure of her bladder had built to the point that even if the suspects showed, she would not be able to go after them into the house without having an accident. Her desire for Jack was coiled in her belly and spreading throughout her limbs like flames. With desire, confusion, shyness, and defiance warring inside her, she slipped her silk knickers to the side and sank her fingers into the damp heat between her legs.

“Good, Miss Fisher,” Jack breathed, carefully keeping his own fingers away from her flesh, one finger hooked in the damp gusset of her panties to hold them for her. “Touch yourself,” he encouraged her, his voice barely more than a gravelly whisper, and in the silence of the police car he heard her fingers move against her soft, wet flesh. His nostrils flared as her scent began to fill the car, and as light stained the horizon, he used his right hand to turn the rear view mirror so that he could see her face in it.

Her head was back against the headrest, her eyes closed. Her teeth were gripping her lower lip.

  
She whimpered.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and her eyes flew open as though she'd forgotten he was there. Her fingers stilled as their eyes met in the mirror. “Trust me,” he reminded her, and she nodded, the look on her face changing to one of cunning as she moaned softly, and he felt her knuckles against his as she slid her fingers inside of herself with a throaty moan.

“I'd rather these were your fingers, Jack,” she breathed, and he smiled.

“So would I, Miss Fisher. And another time, perhaps, they will be.” She moaned, and her eyes fluttered closed. His right hand slid down into his lap and he wrapped his fingers around the hard ridge concealed in his trousers. He listened to the wet sounds her fingers were making against her heated flesh and her breathy moans, and gritted his teeth.

“When, Jack?”

“When what, darling?” It was lighter now, much lighter, but he resolutely kept his eyes away from her lap.

“When will you finally take me to bed?”

“Would you like that?” he rumbled softly, “is it my fingers you want there?” He paused, listening to her panting breaths. “Or my mouth, Miss Fisher?” She gasped, and her eyes met his in the mirror once more. His right hand squeezed his hardness while his left continued to hold her knickers out of the way of the fingers that she was now pounding into and out of herself. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent and steadying himself. When he spoke again his voice was soft, hesitant. “Or is it...is it my cock you want inside you?”

Phryne let out a little scream, all thoughts of where they were forgotten as she came, shuddering violently in the car seat beside him. She moaned as her fingers gradually slowed, her eyes meeting his once more as she slowly came back to herself.

“Jack,” she gasped, and he smirked. She pulled her sticky fingers away from herself and he gently let go of her knickers, capturing her hand in his. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and gently cleaned her fingers, one at a time, as she caught her breath. “You're a wicked man, Detective Inspector,” Phryne teased, and he looked mildly back at her.

“Did it ease your discomfort, Miss Fisher?” he asked softly.

Phryne frowned, shifting her weight experimentally. “It did, actually,” she admitted. She paused before adding, “And it made the pleasure very intense.” He nodded. “Though,” she smiled teasingly, “that was more likely because of you.”

“We shall have to test that theory, Miss Fisher,” he murmured, turning the engine over to start the motorcar. “But for now, we’d best just get you home.”

“Home? What about our stakeout?”

Jack nodded out the windscreen, “it's morning now. We’ll have to try again another night.”

Phryne looked out at the daylight that had risen while she was preoccupied. She laid her right hand, still slightly sticky, on Jack’s thigh. “Will you come home with me, Jack?” she asked quietly. “At least for a cup of tea and some breakfast.”

“Of course, Miss Fisher. I'd be delighted.”


	5. We met in a bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack's restraint begins to slip.

They came into Wardlow through the back door, into the kitchen where Mr Butler, in his dressing gown, was plumping a loaf of bread into its pan. The oven was on and Jack moved gratefully in front of it while Phryne disappeared immediately to the restroom.

“Good morning, Inspector,” Mr Butler smiled, “would you like some tea?”

“Thank you,” Jack nodded, and he was sitting at the table with a steaming cup in front of him when Phryne came back into the room, having removed her coat, hat, and shoes. She looked smaller somehow, Jack thought, without shoes and hat. She curled up into the chair beside his and ran her fingers along his thigh under the table.

Jack smiled blandly at her, his eyes not leaving hers as he brought the fingers of his left hand slowly to his face, running his index and middle fingers across the faint stubble of his upper lip, and drew in a deep breath.

Phryne smiled wickedly, knowing that those same fingers had been against her knickers not long ago. She wondered if he liked how she smelled. “Shall we launder your handkerchief for you, Jack?” she asked pleasantly, arching a brow.

“Oh, no, Miss Fisher, thank you. I seem to have left it in the car.”

“Ah, pity,” she smirked. “Perhaps I should lend you one of mine.”

“That won't be necessary.” Jack finished his tea and rose from the table. “May I use your facilities?”

“Of course, Jack. You know the way.”

Phryne waited until Jack had disappeared down the hallway before slipping out of the kitchen, through the parlour and into the hallway from the other side, creeping up to the closed bathroom door in time to hear the toilet flush.

Jack heard the creak of the floorboards in the hallway in the instant before he pulled the chain. After washing and drying his hands, he pulled his handkerchief from his trouser pocket, wondering if Phryne had seen it peeking out. Well, this was Phryne. Of course she had. What did she expect him to do with it? He brought the white cloth to his face, breathing in the scent of her pleasure.

His cock throbbed in response, and he glanced at the closed door. He didn't want her to watch from the keyhole, but he also didn't want to shut her out. He walked slowly over to the door, leaning his back against it.

With one hand, he scratched gently at the wood of the closed door.

On the other side of the door, Phryne scratched gently back. “I could help you with that, Jack,” she murmured teasingly, and he smiled.

He unfastened his trousers, reaching into his smalls and wrapping his cool fingers around his hard length. He let out a shuddering breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and felt the door shift as Phryne pressed up against it from the other side.

He stroked himself slowly, knowing she could hear his every breath. Making no effort to conceal his activities, he groaned softly.

“Jack...I wish I was in there with you,” Phryne said through the door, and he moaned softly in response. “I would gladly let my hands take over for yours,” she murmured against the wood, “I would get on my knees for you.”

Jack’s moan was strangled as he imagined her beautiful red lips wrapped around his shaft, and his left hand brought the handkerchief up to his face, breathing her in. He wanted to taste her, but refrained, saving himself for the real thing. Dimly he registered that she was still murmuring to him through the door “...over the sink, Jack, you could do that, so I could see your face in the mirror like you saw mine, as you take me…” Jack’s hand on his cock sped up as he felt the explosion building. “...as you come for me.” Jack groaned loudly, spilling into the hastily-held handkerchief, his head falling back against the door with a clunk as he came.

Phryne listened, pressed flush to the outside of the door, her knees weak and her whole body trembling. At length she felt him move away from the door and she reached for the knob. “May I come in, Jack?”

Jack had to clear his throat before he could reply, tucking himself back into his clothes and stuffing the soiled handkerchief back into his pocket. “Yes, Miss Fisher,” he replied, and turned to catch her as she hurled herself into the room and into his arms. Their lips met in a kiss that was hungry and desperate, her still-trembling body pressed against his.

“My wild girl,” Jack breathed into her mouth, and Phryne pulled back to look at him, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes amused.

“Why, Inspector, I had no idea…” she trailed off, realizing she'd had no idea about any number of things about this man.

Jack cocked an eyebrow at her, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “We have much to learn about each other, Miss Fisher. I suggest we start with supper. Will you join me, tonight?”

“I'll have to check my calendar,” she teased, taking his hand and tugging it until he followed her out of the bathroom and into the parlour.

“Well, I know supper with me can't compete with parties and dances,” Jack said, running the tips of his fingers down the sleeve of her blouse.

“Oh, Jack,” she sighed. “It doesn't have to.”

He smiled broadly, the kind of smile he usually gave her retreating back. “Eight o'clock, then, Miss Fisher?”

“With bells on, Inspector.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll be there with bells on" is apparently an expression dating back to the late 19th/early 20th century, and while it was more common in America, I'm sure Phryne would have come across it.


	6. With bells on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phryne attempts to turn the tables on Jack.

Phryne was waiting in the parlour when the doorbell rang. Mr Butler came to the parlour and opened the door with a flourish: “the Inspector, Miss.”

Phryne looked up to see that Jack was in his good black suit, his hair freshly coaxed into its usual style, his eyes shining darkly.

Jack approached Phryne’s chair, his gaze taking her in almost reverently. Wordlessly, he extended a hand to her and she took it, allowing him to guide her to her feet. When she stood before him, his gaze swept from her hair (perfectly styled, as always, with a black fascinator), down her face (elegantly made up, of course, her lips a slick of waxy rouge), down her body (covered from collarbone to knee, shoulder to wrist, in a black, gauzy sheath dress) and her perfect calves (in sheer black stockings), to her feet (sparkly black heels).

“Phryne,” he rumbled softly, “you are so beautiful.”

“Well hello, Jack. You look marvellous yourself. Quite...edible, in fact.”

The corner of Jack’s mouth twitched up in a smile. Still holding her hand, he brought it up to his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Shall we go to dinner?”

“Would you like a drink first?”

Jack looked into her eyes in lieu of giving her the once-over again. “I don't think that's wise, Miss Fisher. Better get out into company as quickly as possible.”

Phryne smiled. “As you wish. My motorcar or yours?”

“I've arranged a car,” Jack replied, guiding her into the entrance hall where Mr Butler helped her on with her fur, as Jack shrugged into his usual overcoat.

Dinner seemed to pass by in a blur. Before they knew it, the car was letting them out in front of Wardlow, and Phryne took Jack’s arm as they walked up the path. Phryne unlocked the door and turned back to Jack. “Are you coming in for a drink, Jack?”

He seemed to consider it, before glancing back at the waiting car. “Not tonight, Miss Fisher,” he murmured regretfully, his fingers gently stroking her cheek.

“May I kiss you goodnight, then, Jack?”

His eyebrows raised, he nodded.

Phryne leaned in, lifting her face to his, and brushed the tip of her tongue across his lips. As he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, she pulled back, maintaining the contact but not letting him take it deeper. “Thank you for dinner, Jack,” she breathed against his lips, sucking gently at the bow of his upper lip. Her tongue snaked across his philtrum and he made a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan as she pulled away.

“Goodnight, then, Jack,” she smiled, stepping back through the door. They maintained eye contact as she left the door partially open and then she walked away, letting the fur fall from her shoulders. She hung it on the rack, carelessly, then bent forward to undo the straps on her shoes, the fabric of her dress stretching tight across her bottom, riding up the backs of her thighs. She removed first one shoe and then the other, not even glancing at the door to see whether Jack was still watching.

Jack was still watching. His right hand gripped the doorframe and his left the doorknob, his body and his coat shielding her from view of the street as she stood up again, lifting her skirt high enough to release the garters from her stockings and then she slowly rolled the stockings down her legs. He heard the faint tinkling of bells and realized that she had, indeed, had bells on. He wondered where else they were. Jack steadfastly gripped the doorframe tighter as the cab driver honked restlessly.

The sound made Phryne look up, and she smiled. Padding towards Jack in her bare feet, she leaned into him, breathing in his familiar scents and brushing her lips against his. “You're letting all the cold air in, Jack,” she murmured, and he looked down to see that, sure enough, her nipples pressed against the front of her dress. Incapable of replying, he merely smiled crookedly at her as she breathed again “goodnight, Jack,” and softly closed the door.

Phryne leant against the door, listening as his footsteps retreated to the car, to the slam of the cab door, and the crunching of the tyres as it drove away. The man was going to drive her mad, but she was pretty sure she'd take him to madness right along with her.


	7. Purposes at odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phryne wants to get into the Inspector’s pants, and the Inspector wants to get into Phryne’s heart, and there is no sexy stuff.

The following morning found Phryne and Dot sharing toast and tea in Phryne’s bed.

“How was dinner with the Inspector, Miss?”

Phryne shrugged. “Dinner was delicious. The wine was marvellous. The conversation was stimulating.”

“Only the conversation, Miss?” Dottie asked the question, then squeaked when she realized what she'd said, colour rising in her cheeks and one hand flying up to cover her mouth.

Phryne laughed. “Everything about Jack is stimulating,” she admitted, “but we said goodnight at the door.”

“There's nothing wrong with that, Miss,” Dot protested. “Hugh and I say goodnight at the door.”

Miss Fisher considered this. “Do you ever wish you weren't, Dot? Saying goodnight at the door? Waiting for marriage?”

Dot squirmed, still blushing. “No, Miss. Sometimes when Hugh kisses me…”

“Go on.”

“...sometimes I feel funny, like how I expect I'll feel after we’re married. But it's frightening.”

“Arousal isn't anything to be frightened of, Dot. It's to be enjoyed. Celebrated, even!”

“Perhaps once we’re married, Miss.” Dot slid off the bed and cleared the breakfast things away. “Do you need help dressing, Miss?”

“No, Dot. Thank you.”

Alone in her room, Phryne stood naked in front of the full-length mirror. Why was she suddenly self-conscious? she wondered. She'd been naked in front of any number of men. Why was this one different?

•••

At the same time, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was sitting in the car, waiting for Hugh Collins to get back in. He was thinking about Phryne on the seat beside him the other night, making herself come at his behest. He hoped he would be able to give her as much pleasure as she could give herself. As much as any other man she’d taken to her bed.

No, he realized. He wanted to give her _more_ pleasure. More pleasure than she could give herself. More than any other man had ever given her. And he wanted to do it over, and over, and over again, until the times she had come for him outnumbered all the others.

His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. He wanted her so very badly. But he wanted it to be special. He just didn’t know how to make it special enough.

What would Phryne think was special? Surely she’d been wooed more times than she could count. Flowers, jewelry, nothing he could buy her would be _new_ to her.

When Hugh got back into the car, Jack turned to him abruptly. “Collins, if you wanted to do something special for Miss Williams, what would you do?”

Hugh looked no more taken aback than usual, and considered the question. “I bought her some new knitting needles, Sir, because Mr Butler told me she'd been having a problem with hers. She seemed pleased with them…”

Jack nodded, pulling the motorcar away from the curb. “So if you were...if you were wooing Miss Fisher, what kind of thoughtful gift would you get her?”

Hugh considered the question, hiding his surprise as best he could. “Well, Sir, what does Miss Fisher like best?”

“Murder. But I don't think I'll stoop quite that low, yet, Collins.”

“Well, Dottie is the one who takes the notes, so I guess a notebook wouldn't be a good gift. But Miss Fisher’s magnifier isn't the newest model. And she's always keeping her gun in her pocket, Sir - that can't be safe, can it?”

Jack turned to look at his constable. “Those are good ideas,Constable. Thank you.” The younger man flushed. Jack turned back to the road. He'd need to go shopping after his shift. He was expected at Wardlow for supper.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like one of these conversations came out more true to the characters than the other (which is funny, because I generally feel like I'm better at Jack than Phryne!), but they're both necessary.


	8. Declarations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack presents his gift to Phryne, and there is some fluff that turns at last into a hint of smut.

Supper at Wardlow.

They chatted amicably over dinner in the dining room, Mr Butler appearing and disappearing as if by magic. Both declined dessert and retired to the parlour, drinks in hand.

Jack settled onto the chaise, and Phryne nestled in against him, staying close. He leaned in to kiss her softly, and she kissed him back, the kiss changing from sweet to greedy the instant their mouths opened.

Phryne wondered how he could kiss her like this and not want to make love to her.

Jack wondered if it would always be like this, if he could ever kiss her and not want to pound her into the nearest soft surface.

Mr Butler, passing the open door, wondered if he should perhaps pull the door closed.

Dorothy, sewing curtains in her bedroom, wondered how Miss Fisher and the Inspector were getting on.

Mr Butler pulled the door closed. Jack and Phryne broke apart at the sound, and Phryne sipped her drink, hoping that the uncertainty she felt didn't show on her face.

“I brought you something,” Jack murmured in her ear.

“A present?” she asked, and he nodded. “What is it?”

“It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you,” he teased her seriously, and she grinned.

“Do I have to find it?” she asked curiously, her fingers sliding into his waistcoat pockets.

“No,” he replied, nodding his head towards the hallway. “It's on the sideboard.”

Phryne extricated herself from his arms with difficulty, not wanting to be away from him, and went into the hallway, finding a wrapped parcel tied with string. She brought it back into the parlour, closing the door firmly behind her, and came back to settle herself in Jack’s lap. He curled his arms around her and breathed in the smell of the skin of her neck.

Phryne picked at the string until it gave way, then began to pull the paper apart. Jack watched her face as she unwrapped her gift, and so he saw the mask of polite interest fall away to be replaced by genuine delight as she fingered the soft leather of the gun holster with its intricate filigree. She picked up the new magnifying glass and stroked its bone handle. At last she picked up what could only be a new lock pick, and he hid his smile. “Jack, I… I don't know what to say.”

“Do you like them?”

“Of course I do, they're marvellous.”

“I wanted to get you flowers,” he admitted. “Or jewellery. Something to show you how special you are to me. But...it's our work that brought us together. It's your mind that made me…” he hesitated, still unsure whether she'd welcome the words or not. “It's your mind that made me fall in love with you,” he admitted, looking down to where her fingers were still stroking the leather holster. “God knows, I want your body, Miss Fisher,” he said, and here he looked up in time to see relief cross her face, “but I want it all. Everything. With...with you.”

“Jack,” she began slowly, “I've been going mad these last few days. I've been worried that you...that maybe you didn't want me, that way. That you wanted something different.”

“This is pretty different, for me, darling,” Jack rumbled.

“It's different for me, too,” Phryne admitted with a sigh.

“Not a good different, I take it?” he asked quietly.

Phryne shrugged, slipping off his lap to set the opened parcel on the table, coming back to refill their glasses. She took a fortifying sip of whiskey and sat down beside him.

“I just want to...to be with you all of the time,” she admitted raggedly. “I love eating with you and walking with you. I love catching murderers with you. I just so enjoy all of the time I spend with you. I can't wait to see you every day.” She looked up at him. “Is that love?”

Jack smiled, wrapping his arms around her gently. “I think so.”

“Fine, then,” Phryne murmured, curling her arms around his neck.

Jack sat his whiskey glass on the table and held her close. After a few moments he whispered into her hair, “can we go upstairs, Miss Fisher?”

“Why, Inspector...I thought you'd never ask.” Phryne slid off his lap and held her hand out to him, and he pulled her back into him, and she nestled against his chest, raising her face to his. He leaned down and kissed her softly, or intended to, but when their lips met the fire blazed again, hotter than ever.

Without either of them consciously moving, he had pressed her up against the parlour door and her legs were wrapped around his hips. She was rocking herself helplessly against him, and he was biting at her lower lip. She loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, her fingers stroking his throat.

“Jack,” she moaned into his mouth, “I need you.”

“You'll have me, my wild girl,” he rumbled against her neck. “But not here,” he insisted, and she whimpered in protest. “Not our first time, Phryne.”

“I know,” she agreed. “Let’s go to the bedroom.” He tried to set her down, but she wouldn't let him, keeping her legs wrapped around his hips. He growled and managed to open the door with some difficulty. He stumbled into the hallway and halfway up the stairs before he had to stop, pressing her into the wall at the landing and grinding himself against her, feeling her heat even through his trousers and her dress, kissing her with passion bordering on desperation.

Phryne raked her nails through his hair and down the back of his neck and he growled, both hands on her bottom holding her tightly against him, biting her lower lip until she cried out.

Dorothy, hearing the commotion on the stairs, buried her head under the pillow.

Mr Butler, hearing the commotion on the stairs, turned out the kitchen light and went into his bedroom.

Jack, hearing Phryne's cry of pleasure and need, redoubled his efforts to get them into the bedroom.

Phryne, clinging to Jack as he stumbled up the stairs, buried her face in his neck and breathed him in. She opened her mouth, letting her tongue touch his skin, and he groaned as if she'd stabbed him, his grip on her tightening impossibly, but she just lapped at his skin, tasting him, not even realizing that she was whimpering all the while.


	9. Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which...well, you'll see.

When they got to her door Jack kicked it shut behind him and then spun to press her back up against it, shrugging off his suit coat and adjusting his grip on her so that his hands were under her dress, his fingers sliding under her garters and stroking the crease where her thigh met her ass. She moaned, still dragging her tongue over the skin of his neck, throat, anywhere she could reach.

“We have too many clothes on, Jack,” she panted into his flesh, and he buried his face in her hair with a smirk.

“We can't get them off like this, darling.” He slid his cheek down until his lips rested beside her ear. “And although I long to rip your knickers aside and take you just like this...” he paused as a shuddering moan went through her, “Hmmm, yes, we’ll put that on the list - as much as I want to…”

“Not our first time?” she guessed, lowering her legs to the floor.

Jack looked at her, uncertain for the first time that evening.

“It's just that I'm hardly a blushing virgin, Jack…”

“All the more reason that it should be memorable, Miss Fisher, don't you think?” He began to unbutton his waistcoat, tugging his loosened tie from around his neck.

Phryne unbuttoned her dress slowly, her eyes on Jack as he removed his shirt, shoes, and socks, then came over to her, bare-chested and barefooted in only his trousers, his arousal plainly obvious. He unfastened the top buttons of her dress for her, and held the dress as she shrugged it off, laying it over the back of the nearby chair without taking his eyes off of her.

She was breathtaking, he'd known she would be, all creamy white skin and black lace. Jack stepped close to her, his lips brushing her cheek, along her jaw, and then down, down her long white throat, through the valley between her breasts, where he nuzzled gently, down her smooth belly, the tip of his tongue teasing her belly button, and then he was kneeling on the floor in front of her, his face pressed gently to the damp front of her knickers, nosing against her teasingly.

Phryne couldn't take her eyes off of him. Could this really be her Jack, with the wildly mussed hair, those broad shoulders, those strong arms wrapped loosely around her, his tented trousers still on, with his face buried between her legs? She felt like she was dreaming, and then she felt his tongue wetting the fabric between them, and she moaned. “Jack…”

He pulled back to look up at her. “You're right,” he said seriously, “these are in the way.” He hooked his fingers in her knickers and pulled them down to her knees, unfastened her garters and garter belt and pulled the lot down so that she could step out of her shoes and all the rest. He looked back up at her face, and his hands came gliding up her naked legs, stroking the soft down of her pubic hair before using his fingers to spread her apart and burying his face in her once more.

They both moaned, Phryne swaying on her feet. “Jack,” she gasped, “you… I didn't… _ohh_ …”

Jack didn't reply, his tongue lapping at her, stroking her gently with his fingers as he held her open for his mouth, moaning vibrations into her skin as he tasted her at last.

Phryne swayed on her feet, her toes curling as he teased her again and again, her hands fisting in his hair and she cried out, his name on her lips getting higher and more breathless with every insistent press of his tongue and fingers. He pulled back to look up at her, wetness shining on his lips and chin, his fingers sliding lower to take the place of his tongue. He held her gaze as he plunged two fingers inside her, curling them into her as he watched her begin to break apart. His thumb rubbed at her clitoris as his fingers took her, his left arm wrapping around her to hold her as she screamed, “Jack!”, breaking the eye contact as she shuddered violently against him, squeezing his fingers.

Jack held her tightly as she came for him, staring up at her face and then letting his gaze wander down her body, caressing her breasts with his eyes as she calmed. He wiped his mouth on his forearm, closed his eyes, and rested his cheek against the coolness of her thigh.

Phryne came back to herself slowly, her fingers carding through Jack’s hair, his arm around her hips holding her steady. “Inspector Robinson,” she murmured breathily, “I had no idea.”

He grinned cheekily up at her and rose to his feet, gathering her up in his arms and cradling her to his chest. “I'm glad I can still keep you on your toes, Miss Fisher.” He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers.

 


	10. Inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last...

Phryne curled her arms around Jack’s neck and bit gently at his top lip, her tongue tracing across his philtrum as she longed to do every time she saw him. He groaned, pulling her closer against his bare chest. “Oh, Miss Fisher, what you do to me.” His left hand slid down her back to her ass and lifted gently, and she wrapped her leg around him, pressing her wet core against him through his trousers.

“Those need to come off, Jack,” she gasped into his mouth.

“Do you know, can you imagine, how many times I've longed to have you pressed...right...here?” He murmured back, grinding against her with every word. His trousers were getting wet enough that he could feel it through to his skin, and now he knew exactly what that wetness tasted like, could lick it from his lips even now. He held her tightly, torn between the warring desires to make love to her slowly, and to bend her over onto the bed and just... _fuck_ her. Just thinking the word made him growl into her mouth, and he felt more than heard her whimpered response.

Phryne scraped her nails across Jack’s broad shoulders, attempting to slide down his body, her mouth eager to return the favour, but he stopped her with a growl. “Not tonight, Miss Fisher.”

“I want to, Jack.”

“I'll look forward to it,” he replied, catching her mouth again in his and lifting her up off the floor, carrying her over to the bed. He laid her down gently, and she stretched out appealingly, holding her arms out to him. Jack shucked his trousers and pants quickly, climbing up onto the bed with her, pressing his achingly hard cock against her thigh.

Phryne reached down, gently wrapping her fingers around him, watching his face as he sucked air in between his teeth, his flesh throbbing in her grasp. She stroked him slowly. “Let me take you in my mouth, Jack?” she asked softly.

He shook his head, one hand sliding down her body to touch between her legs, the other holding him up as he bent his lips to her breast, rolling his tongue across her nipple.

Phryne moaned, unable to resist pushing her pelvis up to meet his hand, her right hand still stroking his thick length, her left sinking back into his hair. “ _Oh_ , Jack…” He grinned against her flesh and pressed two fingers inside of her, remembering the force with which she'd touched herself that night in the car, his thumb rubbing at her as he moved to the other breast, tugging a little with his teeth. “Jack!” she moaned, pleasure crescendoing until she was crying out incoherently. “Oh, Jack, please,” she begged, when the tide of her orgasm was ebbing, “ _please_.”

Jack moved slowly up her body, trailing kisses along her skin. “You're so beautiful when you come, Phryne,” he whispered into her neck.

“I love the way you say my name, Jack,” she murmured back.

“I don't want to wait another second, Phryne,” he replied, his hand sliding down between them to grasp his cock, gently guiding it to her entrance. “Ready, Miss Fisher?” he asked gently.

She looked up at him, suddenly shy, and tilted her hips against him with a nod, welcoming him in as he slowly pressed into her.

“Oh, god, Miss Fisher,” he rumbled into her mouth as he sheathed himself inside her. “Oh, my love.”

“Jack,” she breathed back. “Darling.”

He began to move, slowly, pressing in and pulling back, but her nails on his back and her legs on the backs of his and her mouth hungrily devouring his had him losing control and he began to pound himself into her, their hips crashing together, and she bit at his lips and he growled and she clung to him and he slammed into her and she tightened around him and screamed his name and he came with a hoarse, gravelly shout and collapsed on top of her.


	11. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack makes sure that Phryne is ...completely... satisfied.

After a long moment, Jack leaned up onto his arms again, staring solemnly down at her. “Did you come again, just now, darling?” he asked softly, and Phryne nodded somewhat drowsily. He brushed her hair from her face with one hand, feeling himself softening inside her. He wondered how soon he could take her again, if she wanted him to.

He withdrew from her reluctantly, going into the adjacent bathroom, washing his face and cleaning himself with a cloth before bringing a fresh wet cloth into the bedroom and sitting on the bed beside Phryne, who hadn't moved. He cleaned her tenderly, as she gazed at him in wordless wonder. She fished her diaphragm out and dropped it into the cloth, and he went into the bathroom again to rinse it for her. When he came back she was laying as still as before, and he knelt between her spread legs, leaning down and trailing kisses along her inner thigh.

“What are you doing, Jack?” she asked quietly, opening her eyes to watch him.

He looked up at her, then back down at her body, using his thumbs to spread her lips apart and lowering his face to her once more, his tongue licking a path from her entrance up to her sensitive nub, flicking gently. She gasped, and he repeated his actions, again and again, until she was writhing beneath him. He plunged a finger inside her, sucking at her flesh, and made her come twice more in rapid succession. At last she squirmed her legs closed, and he came up for air, washing his hands and face before lying down on the bed beside her, covering them both with a blanket and pulling her unresisting into his arms.

“What I've always wanted to do,” he admitted finally. She pressed drowsily closer and he held her, cradled against his broad chest. He listened as her breathing slowed, and her fingers on his arm went slack. “I love you, my Phryne, my wild girl,” he rumbled quietly when he was sure she was asleep.

Lying there in the dark, Jack listened to the sounds of the house in the deep of night, Phryne’s breathing slow and even, a clock ticking from the hallway. He wondered what time it was, and what time Dorothy would be coming to wake her mistress. He'd rather not be found like this if he could help it, but he couldn't make himself leave her. He wanted to hold her forever.

He didn't know how long he lay there, ten minutes or an hour, but presently he fell asleep. And when he woke up, it was to Phryne’s hot, wet mouth enveloping him.


	12. Relentless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phryne and Jack are both very greedy.

Jack woke slowly, his hands reaching for Phryne before he realized what was happening. The blanket they'd been under had been cast aside, and Phryne knelt beside him, bent over, her mouth completely enveloping his cock.

He groaned. “Miss Fisher… what are you doing?”

In lieu of reply she swirled her tongue around him, her fingers wrapped around the base, her hair tickling his thighs. She pulled back a ways and pressed the flat of her tongue to his glans, licking softly at him. Finally she released him from her mouth, continuing to stroke him as she looked up at him.

“What I've been wanting to do for a long time, Inspector.”

He smiled. “And have you satisfied that urge, Miss Fisher?” he asked quietly.

“No...but I need you.”

Jack sat up and reached for her, easily pulling her up to his chest, pressing her down into the mattress, his lips searching for hers and capturing them, kissing her greedily. “Tell me what you want, darling,” he requested, and she whined softly, pressing her hips up to his. “Tell me,” he insisted quietly, his husky whisper stroking her skin.

“I need...you inside me, Jack.”

“Hmmm,” he replied, sliding his hand down to press a finger between her soft folds, sliding it inside of her, discovering that she was already dripping wet. She moaned. “Like this?” he asked.

“That's lovely, but no…”

“Tell me.” He stroked his finger in and out of her, his palm pressing against her nub.

“Your… Jack… _please_.”

Jack slid his finger out of her and rolled them over so that she was on top of him, straddling his hips.

She immediately moved to take him inside her, sinking down on him with a cry as he growled beneath her. “Jack…” she moaned.

“ _Oh_ , god, Miss Fisher…”

She moved above him, taking her pleasure, rocking her hips against him. He reached for her hands and they laced their fingers together, their eyes locked to each other’s. They moved together for several minutes, but Phryne’s frustration threatened to overwhelm her. She leaned down to him. “I need you to take me, Jack”

“Hmm,” he rumbled, releasing her hands to take hold of her hip, one hand on the back of her shoulders, effortlessly flipping them both so that she was beneath him on the bed, one hand trapping both of hers above her head, and he nosed along her jaw. “And how would my Miss Fisher like to be taken?” he mused. “Would she like me to make love to her slowly?” He eased his cock in and then back out of her, slowly, teasingly. Phryne whimpered. “Would my Miss Fisher perhaps like me to take her a little harder?” he wondered, his hips beginning to piston in and out of her, his strong shoulders braced against the effort. Phryne moaned, pushing her hips up into his thrusts. “Or perhaps…” Jack hesitated. “Perhaps my Miss Fisher…” he leaned in close again so that his lips were against her ear before continuing “wants me...to... _fuck_...her?”

Phryne made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan as Jack began to pound his cock into her, his hips slamming hers into the bed over and over, her whimpers of need turning into wails of pleasure as he used all of his weight and his muscles to pound against her, gritting his teeth against the need to come, all of his senses given over to the pleasure of fucking her at last, his thrusts becoming more violent and erratic as she wailed “yes, _Jack_ , yes…”

Her hands were still held fast above her head, her back was arching as he drove into her with all the force he could manage, all control crumbling as he felt her spasming wildly around his cock, her wails turning to shrieks of pleasure that catapulted him into his own, shouted release. “ _Fuck_ , Phryne!”

They were both shaking as Jack released his grip on her hands, gathering her to his chest as he rolled onto his side, cradling her against him tenderly, as though she might break. When he could manage to speak, he whispered hoarsely “did I hurt you, darling, are you all right?”

“My god, Jack,” was all she could reply, trembling a little in his arms, still shuddering with ripples of pleasure.

“I'm sor-” Jack tried to speak, but she reached up with a shaking hand to cover his mouth.

“Jack...why didn't we do this before?” He smiled hesitantly against her fingers. “You are…” she trailed off. “I've never heard you swear before,” she murmured instead.

“No?” he smiled, flicking his tongue against her fingers. “It seemed…”

Jack said: “appropriate.”  
Phryne said: “spectacular.”

They both smiled, and Jack bent his head to kiss her tenderly. After another minute or two Jack gently extricated himself and went into the bathroom to clean himself up, but this time Phryne followed him, and they stood side by side at the sink, her eyes meeting his in the mirror.

Jack wondered what time it was. He was both tired and exhilarated, he wanted to lie beside her and sleep for days, but he also wanted to see how many more times he could make her come. She must have seen something in his face because she cocked an eyebrow at him, pausing in the act of washing her inner thighs. “Something on your mind, Jack?”

“I love you,” he replied quietly, honestly, without thinking. “In fact, Miss Fisher, I am madly in love with you,” he rumbled, sinking to his knees again and taking the cloth from her, using it to tenderly clean her folds. He pressed his lips to her stomach, her thighs. She twitched slightly, and he smiled against her skin. “Miss Fisher,” he breathed, nosing into her pubic hair, listening as her breathing sped up, “I do believe you are insatiable.” His tongue snaked out to flick her sensitive clit and she shuddered, fisting her hands in his hair. He stood up, lifting her in his arms, kissing her greedily as he carried her into the bedroom, depositing her on her back on the bed and immediately burying his face between her legs, licking, sucking, coaxing her pleasure from her, as greedy for her cries of release as he'd ever been for anything.


	13. Confessions in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phryne practices something she's never done before..,

Phryne lost count of how many times Jack made her scream, bringing her to the edge again and again, sometimes coaxing her into falling, other times denying her, his lips, tongue, fingers driving her mad with pleasure. Finally she begged him to stop, and he did, coming up to lie beside her, gathering her up in his arms to cradle her against his chest.

He was exhausted, and dropped off to sleep almost immediately, his hard cock against her belly twitching a little and then softening in his sleep. Phryne lay awake, her fingers stroking his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He loved her. And he'd told her so, three times tonight. In the parlour. Again when he'd thought she was sleeping. And again in the bathroom when she'd asked what he was thinking about. He'd shown her, too, with every touch, every caress, every lick and suck and bite. She wondered what had changed in her, that the words suffused her with warmth and pleasure rather than annoyance or fear. He was different, he was her Jack. Could that be enough? Moving as little as possible, she risked a glance up at his face. He looked younger in sleep, his hair tousled and his long lashes lying on his cheeks. “I love you,” she whispered experimentally. It sounded strange, foreign, and she was glad she'd tried it out on her own first. “I love you,” she whispered again. That was better. “I love you, Jack Robinson,” she said, at normal volume, her eyes caressing his sleeping face. “In fact, I just may be madly in love with you.” She buried her own face in his chest, snuggling up against him, and went to sleep.

Jack smiled into her hair, cuddling her sleeping body close. She loved him. She'd said so. And one day maybe she would tell him when she knew he was awake. And if not, well, that was okay. She was Phryne Fisher, after all. His wild girl.

[fin]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm already working on two more stories...


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